


Take It Back

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, F/M, POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:16:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Sara's POV dream sequence after 1x19 "The Key". Angsty.





	Take It Back

The sun is warm on my face and bright, so bright I have to clench my eyes closed to protect them from the searching ball of gas. There is a slight wind that brushes across the skin of my bare shoulders and sweeps my hair out into the space behind me. I inhale the salty sea air as the frothy waves lap at my bare feet and they begin to sink into the drenched sand.

I know he is there before he even touches me, like always he is a part of me now that I can never let go. His powerful tattooed arms wrap themselves around my body, my skin immediately aching for the attention I have yet to fully experience. As if on cue, he drops his tender lips to my milky skinned shoulder and plants a gentle kiss there.

“You waited,” he whispers surprised against my neck, his deep and velvety voice reverberating through my bones. I lean into his half naked form and he tightens his grip in response, enclosing one hand in the other as he pins me against him. He is bare footed too and our feet brush past each other as I change position. Even with two toes missing his balance is impeccable and he holds me tight when the waves threaten to wash me away.

“I would wait forever,” I breathe, my eyes falling closed as his tongue darts out to moisten my neck before his lips lock onto the skin and my pulse quickens. I snake a hand slowly behind me to pull his head close to me, a silent begging reaction from his assault. He smiles against my pounding pulse, his arms separating and a flat palm pressing against my flat stomach.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t,” he says through kisses. The tide is coming in around us with every white trimmed crash of the tiny waves against our legs. The bottoms of his pants are instantly wet and stick to his muscular legs but we ignore it. The sun is setting before us abnormally swiftly, it rippling against the pink skyline as it drops below the horizon. We do not plunge into darkness straight away and even with passionate eyes closed we still know the sunset is happening. It always does.

His hands never leave my body, exploring every curve and hilly breasts with the admiration of a blind man. When he drags his delicate touch over my bosom my back curves and I arch into his hands further. Waiting has been cruel to me and I have not been here for a while. One of his hands kneads at my breast while the other tucks my ruddy locks from my shoulder allowing him access to my already excited skin. My breathing falters and my knees feel weak as I rest a gripping hand against his powerful thigh.

I turn so we are facing, the sand beneath my feet sopping with seawater and causing my toes to sink below the surface. Like a dark shadow looming over his life his tattoo speaks to me, distracting me from my words for a second while I study the battle on his chest. The Devil points a wicked finger towards the arch Angel whose wings are weathered and tired from battle. I see Michael in the Angel, his entire life having been nothing more than a battle for survival he has waged against his self.

“Don’t be afraid,” I soothe laying a soft hand to his cheek. With a sigh he crooks his neck and pushes his hand further into my tiny palm, his own darting up to grip at mine and never wanting me to let go. “You never have to be afraid,” I tell him, my words of wisdom coming from my heart. His eyes flicker open and meet mine. The bluey hues are tainted with black, a reminder of his prison life that will haunt him forever.

“What if it’s too hard?” he asks me with a cryptic air in his voice. I cannot answer him with anything but a smile and a gentle squeeze of his hand. My life has been too hard at times and I did the cowardly thing and turned to drugs for a release. Even now, as we stand on a white sand beach at sunset with the waves tickling our feet in the most serene encounter I have ever known I am an addict. Every time I close my eyes I am reminded of my spectacularly tattooed poison and his godly touch.

Without a single word his lips sweep over mine, smacking together with eager longing and pure passionate need. We both need this. It is why we are here, away from Fox River and its horrors. Away from everything that ever tried to take us down or stepped in our way. Erasing all of that left only us, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

I suddenly have a sense of urgency and I part my reddening lips to invite his tongue in. Like always he tastes so sweet, identical to the way he tasted in the infirmary when he crossed a line and changed my life forever. Had he not I would never of made my way here and never had come back so often. Addictions can make or break you, depending on the substance of your choice and I have yet to find out the ending to this tale.

We don’t talk any more. Neither of us is needs to say anything that we cannot show with our bodies. My breath hitches in my throat when he slides his hands to cup my behind, two warm palms burning into my skin through the thin crinkled fabric of my sundress. With an effortless move he picks me up, our lips never parting for a second and I wrap my legs around his waist, my desperate grip pushing down his waistband as I struggle to hold myself up. My hands roam his face as our tongues massage one another, his clean-shaven face baby smooth under my fingertips and his own hands set firmly against my back.

He takes a few steps up the beach before turning and dropping to his knees away from the surf. The sand absorbs part of the landing but our mouths are torn apart awkwardly. With soft slow pants he lowers me to the sand. It is cool under my back and the sea licks at my curled toes when I drop my legs from his waist. He studies my face as he brushes a stray hair from my brow and tucks it behind my ear, the sensitive skin tingling with his minute attention.

I study his and for a second I register doubt when his chest heaves and he pulls backwards. I feel apprehensive but rest a hand to his inky chest. His eyes fall to my hand spread over his heart and then back to mine. “I want this,” I assure him, as he remains frozen above my body. “You want this,” I tell him, desperately trying to convince him of what we both yearn for so much.

“We can’t take this back,” he says solemnly as the froth pats at out lower legs like a timer edging us for a decision. “Sara…” he pauses, his face turning from mine after he uses my name for the first time. I don’t want to ever take this back but I can’t tell him. For some reason he is broken inside and unable to be free from what holds him back.

“Michael,” I use his name and he snaps his gaze back to me, our eyes meeting once more. His look silences me and I forget what I was about to say, sending him a nod instead. We always communicate in smiles, nods and actions, our words never meaning as much. He leans down and captures my lips in a tenderly slow kiss, our eyes pressed closed as our mouths move against each other.

Something inside of me wants to reach out and hold him, tell him everything will be ok but I know I can’t. I have tried before but my reasoning and maternal instinct has been suppressed, replaced with the primal urges of modern man. My hands busily roam his back, absently tracing lines and curves that hold so much meaning to him, meaning that I have yet to discover. I pull up my legs so that my knees are bent beside his hips and a strong hand traces up my thigh.

I can’t help but lose myself in his touch. His hands are like fireballs on my skin, sending the burning feeling all the way to my core where the muscles twitch and urgently seek the key to making me whole. Michael is the key, the key that I have denied for so long. His hands continue upwards, moving the light material of my dress up over my hips where it bunches under my bra line.

I can’t help but moan under his assault of my body. He is a meticulous person and pays special attention to every single part of my figure, dipping his hot tongue into my navel before kissing the wetness away. Perched between my knees he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slides them down. For every inch they fall he kisses my smooth legs until my panties are no longer a barrier between us and they are lost in the ocean forever.

The watery third party to our romance laps at my upper thighs and soaks his pants as he grabs under my thighs and lifts me a body’s length further up the beach. Before I know it I am thrown into the sand, my hair spilling into the cold glassy grains as he moves back down my body blowing hot, condensing breathes on my skin. I begin to writhe when his lips close over my bundle of nerves quickly, sucking gently on it, urging my aching centre to release its sweet nectar.

There is no other sound except the ocean crashing and our heavy breathing as he leaving my searing core and climbs back over my body. I can taste myself on his lips and it is the most erotic thing I have ever encountered, sending even more signals between my legs. Totally unselfishly he reaches into his pants and frees his member, guiding it home with well scripted precision. We fit together perfectly and he inches inside my hellish centre with a growl.

I hold my breath as he moves inside of me, wanting to hold onto this feeling as long as I possibly can. It never last long enough and as we grind against each other, hot and panting as one, I want it to last forever. I need it to last forever. My eyes squeeze shut as I try to stop my release from coming but my attempts are futile, and a tear escape my eye when I feel the familiar grip of his eloquent hand on my hip.

He cannot see me cry because his head is buried in my shoulder and his gasps of pleasure drown out my sobs. When we come together his body shudder on top of mine and I can’t help but scratch at his skin, needing him deeper within me. He spills his seed into me and whispers the words of our well rehearsed play I long to hear him say all the time.

“I love you,” he breathes on staggered inhalations into my bare skin, turning his face left and resting his face flat against my chest. The tears burning in my throat stop me from replying and white flashes before my eyes as I frantically clutch him to my bosom.

When my eyes open he is gone and like every other time an addict receives a fix, I am left empty and unresolved. I wipe my eyes quickly before my lunch is over and a nurse comes to find me for my next patient. My desk is littered with paperwork I should have caught up on over the last hour but exhausted, I had fallen back into my everlasting dream. A dream that has invaded my sleep since he kissed me so tenderly yesterday and one that I cannot help but become addicted to. I wish I could erase yesterday and go back to our playful flirting but I can’t take it back. I can never take it back.

I glance at my watch and it says it is almost two in the afternoon. Almost time for another fix.


End file.
